


Spring Fever

by miera



Series: Worthless [9]
Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-09
Updated: 2010-02-09
Packaged: 2017-10-07 03:44:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/61074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miera/pseuds/miera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Spring, when a young man's fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love." In other words, Malcolm's libido is running amok. (05/15/2003)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spring Fever

**Author's Note:**

> Multiple partners, both het and slash.

_"I gave you a direct order, Lieutenant," Archer observed with a smirk. "That order included sucking me off, not staring."_

He gulped. "Yes sir." Without hesitating, he knelt on the deck in front of the Captain's chair, hand gliding smoothly up the muscular thighs. He tugged slightly, pulling Archer's body forward. Gently he ran his tongue over the head.

He heard Archer groan. "God, Malcolm."

As slowly as he could stand, he ran his tongue down the underside of Archer's cock, causing another twitch in the naked body draped across the command chair. Licking his way back down, he wrapped his entire mouth around the man's shaft and, with excruciating slowness, took him all the way into his mouth, and then drew back.

The slow pace was killing Archer. He twisted one hand around the arm of the chair, knuckles white. The other ran through Malcolm's short hair. "Faster, dammit."

Malcolm pulled away, allowing the cock to fall from his mouth. He pressed his face against Archer's groin and shook his head, nuzzling the warm flesh. "Your order didn't specify how fast, sir," he said pointedly.

Archer gasped. "I can amend the order if necessary, Lieutenant."

"As you wish, sir." Malcolm suddenly latched onto the tip of Archer's cock. One of his hands slipped under the other man and began to finger his balls. Archer growled out a curse, unable to stop his body from pumping as Malcolm began to suck harder, pulling on the entire length. Archer gave in and came, shooting down Malcolm's throat hard and fast...

Malcolm gasped awake, his body covered in sweat. And something else, he realized. He fumbled the lights on and looked down. Sure enough, the sheets had been tossed off and a large, wet stain was forming on the front of his boxers.

"Shit."

He fell back against the pillow and sighed. This was the third time in the last two weeks he'd woken up like this. It was ridiculous. He was a grown man, not an oversexed teenage boy. He should not be having wet dreams this often.

Particularly not about his captain.

He rubbed his eyes. The dampness in his shorts was becoming uncomfortable, so he got up and went to the bathroom. Stripping off his soiled boxers, he threw them into the laundry hamper and started to clean himself off.

Images from the dream came back to his mind. Archer, naked in his command chair, ordering Malcolm to go down on him. Well, Dr. Freud, not hard to discern where that particular notion came from. The authority figure demanding service—albeit highly pleasurable service—from his subordinate, putting the subordinate in a favored position. The only thing that could've made it more completely textbook was if Archer ordered Malcolm to fuck him outright.

"Bloody hell." His cock twitched as the mental image of Archer hanging on to the command chair, presenting his backside to Malcolm, danced before his inner vision. Malcolm shook his head.

What was going on? Perhaps there were deeper psychological reasons for that one particular wet dream, but this wasn't an isolated occurrence. Last week, the dream about T'Pol appearing in his quarters in the middle of the night...well, that dream at least wasn't unprecedented. But a few nights ago, the dream he had about Hoshi and Jessy and the gym...

More memories surfaced and he looked down. His cock was waving happily at attention again. Resigned, he climbed into the shower stall and grabbed some soap.

In the gym, he remembered. _He was sitting on the weight bench, watching Lt. Giordano give Hoshi a self-defense lesson. Well, not really watching so much as ogling. Hoshi's body was all exquisite curves and delicate lines. Like a graceful sculpture come to life, up to her glossy black hair which was whipping around her head as she moved. Jessy was utterly different, but just as beautiful, her powerful muscles flowing smoothly in unison beneath her dark skin. The coils of her brown hair tickled her neck as her ponytail dragged over her shoulders. The two of them were sparring, bare arms and legs entangled, hands roaming over each other in a highly suggestive fashion. He watched, growing harder with every breath._

And they caught him.

The two women walked over, but instead of decking him—as she most certainly would have in real life—Jessy simply smirked at him, "Enjoying the show?" she asked, looking at the prominent bulge in his pants.

Hoshi rolled her eyes, and then stripped off her top. She was naked underneath. "It's nothing he hasn't seen before," she said, looking pointedly at Malcolm.

Jessy came up behind her, hands cupping Hoshi's bare breasts, fingers caressing her nipples. One hand reached up and brushed Hoshi's hair back. Jessy pressed her lips against Hoshi's ear, murmuring, "Well, then let's show him something he hasn't seen, shall we?" They both grinned wickedly at him, Jessy nipping Hoshi's ear.

Hoshi leaned back into Jessy, eyes closed, enjoying the feeling of the hands on her body. Jessy efficiently stripped the ensign of her sweatpants, and while one hand continued to fondle Hoshi's breasts, the other slipped in between her legs. Hoshi's lithe form began to wriggle, and she gasped for breath. Malcolm's hands began of their own accord to move towards his own swollen cock, but he locked eyes with Jessy and stopped.

Mesmerized, he watched as Hoshi bucked against the hand pressing into her body, nearly lifting up off the floor as she came. When Hoshi was breathing evenly again, she stepped away from Jessy towards Malcolm.

"Think you can do better?" Hoshi asked him, seductively. She pushed him flat on his back on the bench, and then yanked his sweats down to his knees and straddled his taut erection. He looked over her shoulder, though, and gestured for Jessy to come closer. He couldn't speak, but she wordlessly stripped out of her clothes. When she was naked he positioned her over his mouth, and as his tongue stroked up into her wet heat, he felt Hoshi sink onto his cock.

A three-way groan went up. Jessy steadied herself on the weight bar as Malcolm sucked on her clitoris. His hands were holding her hips to guide her, but one broke free and he pushed two of his fingers up into her. She was hot and tight even around his fingers.

Meanwhile Hoshi pushed herself up and down on his cock, speeding up relentlessly. She felt like the inside of the sun, she was so hot, and as she moved faster, she got tighter and tighter. His hips began to thrust up to meet hers, burying himself even further into her body. His franticness translated through his fingers and his tongue. His teeth made contact with Jessy's clitoris and she began to come. He pressed his fingers forward, into her g-spot and she began to shake. He pushed even harder as his balls tightened, Jessy making tiny little sounds as her whole body trembled in release. Hoshi was going too fast, and he couldn't stop. He felt Hoshi clench so tightly around him as she came, there was no way to hold back and his body jerked as he exploded inside her heat...

He came out of the hazy dream-memory and observed that he had managed to spray the entire front end of the shower without realizing it. It took several minutes for him to gather the will to move away from the wall, which was so kindly supporting him. The chill of the tile finally became uncomfortable and he cleaned himself and the shower quickly.

He dried off and shook his head again. As he toweled off his legs, he looked at his cock, which was now lying innocuously against his body. He frowned at it.

"Don't look so innocent. This is all your fault."

That wasn't entirely true, though. When he woke up from the dreams, or even just now in the shower being awake, he still felt the same way. Empty. Unfulfilled. Like the fantasies weren't enough. Like his body was trying to achieve a release that it couldn't reach on its own.

It wasn't just that he needed to get laid. He needed something—someone—else.

Which meant he was in deep trouble.

Grabbing a clean pair of underwear, he climbed into bed, hoping that for tonight he would be sated enough to sleep.

Or at the very least, he wouldn't have a dream involving Trip.

He got his wish.

*~*~*~*

"Good morning, sir. Do you have a minute?"

Malcolm blinked, hastily shooing the mental images from last night out of his head. "What can I do for you, Lieutenant?"

Jessy looked around the Mess hall. "Actually, I need to speak to you in private."

He choked slightly on the last bite of his breakfast. He wiped his mouth with his napkin. "I was just on my way to Engineering." He got up from the table.

She nodded and fell in step with him as they walked to the turbo lift. Once they were in the hallway and reasonably isolated, she looked at him. "I had to order a maintenance check of Section 32 Gamma this morning. The Wonder Twins were at it again last night."

His eyebrows went up. The nickname was a security catchphrase for two crewmembers who had a strong exhibitionist streak. "Isn't that the second time—"

"In a week? Yes, sir. And that's not all."

The turbo lift opened and several people got out. When the doors were closed behind them, she crossed her arms. "I thought I was going to witness a new record being set."

"What happened?" he asked, surprised. The ship-wide record for number of people having sex at once was three, which had already happened several times.

"As best as I can tell, the Twins got interrupted. Someone else had the same brilliant idea."

"Do you know who?"

Despite their being alone, her voice dropped nervously. "Han and Sanchez."

He blinked. Han was a crewman, but Sanchez was a Lieutenant, and they were both engineers. He hadn't even known the two were involved. He wondered if Trip was aware, given that they were violating explicit regulations about fraternizations between rank in the same department.

As if she read his mind, Jessy added. "That's a recent development. One of several."

He rolled his eyes. "For heaven's sake, this is a Starfleet vessel, not a singles cruise."

"Not the way things have been going lately. Anyway, last night the four of them lingered in the area for a bit and then separated back to their respective corners. However, I'm willing to bet words were exchanged. I saw Sanchez on her way to her shift this morning looking pretty pissed off."

Malcolm's face darkened. "It's bad enough that the crew are ignoring the fraternization regulations so freely, why can't they restrain themselves to their own quarters?"

Jessy shrugged. "It's not specifically against regulations to have sex in a publicly accessible area, is it?"

He thought a moment. "Honestly, I've never had reason to check."

She laughed, "That's because you know the kind of internal surveillance capability we have on board."

"If they only knew what we know," he said dryly, quoting an old security joke. He turned back to the larger issue. "I don't suppose there's an explanation for this outbreak of..." he searched for a polite euphemism for 'fucking like bunnies,' his own fantasies of the past few nights weighing on his mind. "Friskiness?"

"Well, it's that time of year, isn't it?" Seeing his confusion, Jessy added. "Spring fever?"

"Surely not this far out. We're over a hundred light years from earth. We should be immune to the change of seasons in deep space," he protested.

She shrugged again. "Maybe it's something that's hardwired into our systems, in our genetic code? I don't know. It seems as good an explanation as any."

Wonderful. Just wonderful. An entire shipload of people full of energy, in the grips of a primal human urge to mate. In public. A lot. Like his job wasn't complicated enough. And he himself was horny as hell. The lift slowed, and he pulled his thoughts back to the problem at hand. "Perhaps we should restrict access to the sweet spot at least. Before fisticuffs break out."

Jessy frowned, following him towards Engineering. "Can we do that? I mean, there's no legitimate reason to keep people from that area."

"I'll find an excuse. I'd like to discourage this trend before we have an open orgy on our hands and the Captain is asking me why I didn't prevent it. What?" Jessy had a dangerous smile on her face.

"If we can't give a direct order, maybe we could use an indirect one." He nodded for her to continue. "What if we make a casual announcement that we're randomly testing all the video cameras aboard the ship? It might put the fear of God into some of our regular customers," she smirked.

Malcolm returned the smirk with one of his own. He had to admire the deviousness of her mind. "That would be an excellent start." He thought a moment. "And if it doesn't work, we could always try selling tickets." Jessy chuckled as they entered Engineering. He stopped and said in a more formal tone, "I'll send the notice out when I reach my station at the Bridge. I expect you to take the first set of random tests tonight, Lieutenant."

"Yes, sir." Jessy grinned at him.

"You two are way too perky for this hour of the morning," Trip grumbled, coming up behind Jessy.

"It's my evening, remember, Commander," she reminded him.

Before he could reply, a crash came from the other side of the room. Crewman Han had dropped an entire box of conductor parts. Trip sighed heavily. "Crewman, we're supposed to fix stuff, not break it."

Han flushed in embarrassment. "Yes, sir. Sorry, Commander." He began cleaning up the mess.

"He's all thumbs this morning," Trip observed, turning back to Malcolm and Jessy.

She shot Malcolm a very knowing look and Malcolm had a narrow escape from bursting out laughing in front of Tucker.

"What can I do for you two?" Trip asked, confused by their sudden smiling.

"I was just leaving, actually. Good night, Lieutenant, Commander."

Malcolm shook his head and turned to Trip. "You wanted to go over the upgrade schematics for the torpedo launch mechanism before I went to the Bridge," he reminded Tucker.

"Oh right, I got 'em in my office."

Trip turned and Malcolm's eyes, almost of their own accord, raked over Trip's body. Images began to flash through his brain and Malcolm gritted his teeth. _Think of something else. Wallpaper. Calculus. Mum wearing a muumuu..._

Malcolm followed Trip into the engineer's office, his mind momentarily cleared.

*~*~*~*~*

The answer was always work. When confronted with a difficult situation, Malcolm could always count on finding some kind of work to bury himself in. Not the healthiest approach to life, he knew, but overhauling the torpedo alignment sensors kept him up to his chin in work and kept his mind off more dangerous topics.

He sealed the hatch and allowed himself a moment of tired satisfaction. Sitting on the floor of the Armory, alone, he leaned back against the wall. The sensors were working far better than they had been a couple days ago, he was sure. He would have to run some simulations to confirm how much.

His stomach rumbled and he realized it was after his regular shift, and he hadn't eaten since breakfast. Chef and Phlox would both be on his back if he missed another meal, so he got up, dusted himself off and headed for the Mess hall.

Walking down the corridor, he heard a commotion coming from the Mess. Curious, he walked through the doors and halted in shock.

Jessy was fighting with Crewman Ross. There were about four people attempting to restrain her, with no success. Two other people were trying to haul Ross away but he was refusing to go. Jessy aimed a well-placed kick at his midsection and Ross doubled over, sinking to his knees. Jessy backhanded him across the face for good measure. Ross fell all the way to the floor. The smacking noise echoed in the room and everyone froze. A silence fell: both from the end of the fight and the realization that a senior member of the Bridge staff was present.

Malcolm took in the scene. He realized Travis was one of the people who'd been trying to pin Ross down. Jessy looked at Malcolm, breathing hard, obviously struggling for control. Behind her, Kai Batare was standing rigidly, her face covered in tears.

Malcolm decided to turn to a neutral party first. "Ensign, what's going on here?"

Travis sighed. "Crewman Ross made a comment that was highly unprofessional, and when Lieutenant Giordano reprimanded him, things got a bit heated."

Malcolm's eyebrows went up and he turned to Jessy, who nodded without meeting his gaze. "I apologize, sir. I shouldn't have let my temper get the better of me."

"Ross hit first," a new voice said, behind him. Hoshi was there, looking as furious as Malcolm had ever seen her.

He cast his eyes down at Ross, who was struggling to get to his feet. "Is this true, Crewman?"

Ross' flat brown eyes glared at him. The man's expression was one of an overgrown boy, sulky and somewhat arrogant. Malcolm unconsciously tensed, but the man was evidently not stupid enough to attack the chief armory officer. "Yes, sir. I—" the words seemed to stick in his throat. "I'm sorry," he muttered.

"I think you owe Crewman Batare the apology," Hoshi said harshly.

Ross' eyes flickered to Batare's face and he mumbled something that sounded barely coherent. Malcolm met Hoshi's eyes and they silently agreed that was as good as it was going to get. He turned to Jessy.

"Do you wish to file a report about this, Lieutenant?"

Jessy looked over her shoulder at Kai, who shook her head mutely. Malcolm surmised that whatever was wrong here, it had started between Batare and Ross and somehow Jessy had gotten involved. "No, sir."

"Very well. Crewman Ross, you're restricted to your quarters for the next two days. Dismissed."

Ross limped out of the Mess Hall, looking pissed off.

Malcolm frowned at Jessy and inclined his head towards the corridor. She followed him out. When he turned towards her, looking angry, she stood at attention, eyes fixed on the wall. "Do you have an explanation for what I just saw?" he asked gravely.

"I reprimanded Crewman Ross after he said something inappropriate to Crewman Batare. He didn't take it well, and he attempted to shove me. I—" she swallowed hard. "I'm afraid my instincts took over and I fought back."

"I expect better of you, Lieutenant." She looked down at the floor and her face flushed bright red. "Both as an officer and a member of the security team." Giordano losing control of her temper was no small thing, and they both knew it, so he spared her that part of the lecture. "What did you say to him?" he asked finally.

She looked right into his eyes. "I informed Crewman Ross if he ever called another female member of this crew a bitch in my hearing again, I would personally drop-kick him out an airlock. Sir." Her voice was tight with anger still.

Malcolm sighed. Technically that was a threat towards another crewmember—which could be actionable, if Ross decided to be a pain in the arse about it. But Malcolm knew, had he been in Jessy's place, he probably would have said much the same thing. And he doubted Ross would pursue the issue. Still, something had to be done. He thought for a moment, then said, "In the future you should be a bit less...descriptive...in this kind of situation."

She blinked. "Yes, sir. I apologize for my lack of self-control. It won't happen again."

"Well, it seems to be going around," he observed dryly. She gave a cautious half-smile. "You will also be confined to your quarters off duty for the next two days." She nodded. "You're dismissed."

He wasn't surprised when he re-entered the Mess to find Batare waiting by the doors. She scooted out as he entered and he saw her and Jessy walk off down the corridor.

Malcolm rolled his shoulders, collected some kind of chicken dish and a glass of iced tea and sat down with Hoshi and Travis. He looked at the two of them and raised his eyebrows. "So?"

Hoshi and Travis looked at each other. Travis put down his fork. "Batare and Ross have been seeing each other for a couple weeks."

Malcolm cursed inwardly. He should have known.

"A couple nights ago, at movie night, they were all over each other."

"He was all over her," Hoshi corrected, stabbing viciously at her salad. "I could hear her telling him to back off."

"Anyway," Travis continued. "Batare and Giordano were eating and Ross came in with his arm around Crewman Paillo."

"Very around," Hoshi added. "To the point of indecency."

"Kai got up and asked him what was going on and Ross..." Travis shifted uncomfortably.

Malcolm's gaze shifted to Hoshi. "He told her he had no use for a 'frigid bitch' like her and they were over," Hoshi said quietly. Despite the low tone of her voice, he could see she was nearly shaking with repressed fury.

"And Giordano stepped in at that point," Malcolm finished the story. The two ensigns nodded. Malcolm could almost see the scene unfolding before him. Ross' insult, Jessy jumping up to defend her friend and slapping Ross down verbally, and Ross trying—and failing—to hit her. The man deserved whatever bruises he got for being so stupid. Attacking Giordano was akin to dangling red meat in front of a hungry tiger.

Hoshi muttered something in Klingon. Everything in Klingon sounded vaguely profane to Malcolm's ears, but even so, he could guess what Hoshi had said. Travis looked at her, amused. "You kiss your mother with that mouth?"

Hoshi rolled her eyes and bypassed the rest of her salad for her ice cream.

Malcolm chewed a piece of chicken and looked around the Mess thoughtfully. "Does it seem to you like emotions are running particularly high these days?" he asked.

Travis shrugged. "Maybe a little bit."

Hoshi licked cream off her spoon absently. Malcolm took a large drink of his iced tea. She finished sucking on the utensil and said, "Now that I think about it, there seems to be a lot of hooking up going on lately."

Travis rolled his eyes. "Well don't look at me. All I do is work and sleep."

Malcolm met Hoshi's eyes and he gave her a wicked look. "Oh really?" he asked Travis, who looked slightly indignant.

Hoshi immediately caught on and nodded. "Yeah, it sounds to me like you're protesting an awful lot Travis."

"I am not!" Travis objected. Hoshi laughed out loud.

Malcolm shook his head. "I guess spring fever is running rampant."

"Spring fever, cabin fever, call it what you want," Hoshi said, taking another bite of her ice cream. "We need a break."

"Perhaps I'll suggest to the Captain to start looking for chances for shore leave," Malcolm observed, finishing his chicken.

Travis nudged Hoshi's arm, "What flavor is that?"

"Strawberry ripple," Hoshi said, holding the spoon out to him. Travis tasted the ice cream from Hoshi's spoon and licked his lips appreciatively. Malcolm had to cross his legs and begin reciting the multiplication tables as his imagination went into overdrive.

He decided against eating dessert that night.

*~*~*~*~*

Malcolm headed for his own quarters after dinner, trying not to think too much about Hoshi, Travis and ice cream all together. He sighed to himself. Travis was a gorgeous man, no matter what your inclination or orientation was. What was it Hoshi had said about that actor she lusted after? "He has the kind of looks that would make Michelangelo toss David and start over."

His life would be so much easier if it was Travis.

Well, Malcolm thought to himself, entering his room and staring out at the bright lines of the stars, it wouldn't solve all his problems. There were still rank issues. Plus he was fairly certain the young ensign was operating only on one side of the fence.

His mind flickered with images of being Travis' lover. The powerful muscles of his upper half, covered in sweat, big but exceedingly gentle hands gliding over naked skin. Possessing that perfect body would be a rich reward, but immediately on the heels of that thought was the mental picture of Travis bouncing eagerly out of bed in the morning, exhorting his partner to go rock climbing or windsurfing or just to embrace the day with all his usual bright enthusiasm.

No. Just...no.

Malcolm sighed again. It didn't really matter how beautiful Travis was, or how protective Malcolm felt about Captain Archer, or whatever latent fantasies he might harbor about anyone else on board. He could sleep with every other member of the crew and it wouldn't cure him of his obsession with Trip Tucker.

In their first months on Enterprise, Malcolm assumed the visceral reactions between them were merely part of their massive personality conflict. He believed their friendship to be something forged by adversity and close quarters rather than a meeting of the minds. When he began to lust after the engineer, he dismissed it. Convenience. Proximity. It wasn't anything new. The human mind must have its fantasy object. This had happened before, and as long as he retained control of it, he wouldn't worry.

Malcolm rubbed his eyes wearily. He'd lost control of this situation a long time ago.

He was drawn to Trip like a magnet. Every bloody day revolved around the man. A good day was when 1) no one on the crew was in mortal danger and the ship wasn't fired on and 2) when he saw Trip for a prolonged period. A great day was when both of those things happened and he got to blow something up.

Even when they were fighting, as they so often did, part of him wanted to grab the blonde and fuck him senseless. Or let Trip take him until he passed out.

Malcolm shut his eyes tightly. The fantasy road was no longer open to him where Trip was concerned. Giving free reign to his imagination, assuming the attraction would play itself out, had nearly been disastrous.

Trip had seen the truth, and been so repulsed he basically fled. Malcolm had been afraid that their friendship had been seriously damaged, and the thought of losing Trip entirely was too horrible to contemplate. So Malcolm had viciously repressed even the slightest inclination. He would not use Trip in that fashion. To do so would violate their friendship.

No more ideas about a long stay in decon after an away mission.

No more visions of Trip appearing in the Armory and pinning him against the torpedo housing and kissing him senseless.

No more images of the two of them in the shower, Trip taking Malcolm from behind, murmuring in his ear as he entered him, "You're mine, Malcolm. Mine." Malcolm whimpering back, as he was caressed with both ferocity and love, "Always."

Malcolm grunted, forcibly stopping the train of his thoughts by digging his nails viciously into his palm.

He had stopped fantasizing about Trip for all the right reasons, but also because it hurt too much. It was difficult enough to live and work with the man every day. Spending every night obsessing over what he was never going to have was a sure road to insanity. But then, was mooning about in his cabin a sign that he was sane?

Disgusted with himself, Malcolm stripped out of his uniform and put on his gym clothes. He worked out thoroughly, to the point of exhaustion, and then came back to his quarters.

In the shower, he called up every fantasy he could think of, every dark or dirty thought he had had about his crewmates, male and female, together and separate, working himself to a massive orgasm that left him trembling and breathless. He crawled into bed and fell asleep with merciful quickness.

And dreamed of Trip anyway.


End file.
